


Armor Hurts Even Those Who love

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Jack, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Surrogate Fathers Sam and Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-22 17:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19944040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong and Jack is trapped in a collapsed building, Dean realizes that he cares far too much to let him go or to leave him alone.





	Armor Hurts Even Those Who love

**Author's Note:**

> I love Jack so much. He's so innocent and pure even for how much he gets misled.  
> Anyways, I own nothing.  
> Enjoy! :)

Going out on a hunt with Jack has to be a mistake. Dean can feel it, but... it isn’t like the way he normally feels about it. He’s been warming up to the kid, mostly because he tries so _hard_ , and Dean remembers being just like that for John. Dean wanted so badly to please his father, and now all Jack wants to do is please him and Sam. 

It occurs to him just how much better it would be if Cas were around. Maybe then they’d have a chance of keeping him on a lighter path. Light _er_ , because really? How light is the path of a hunter? 

No, this mistake was something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something... _wrong_. Especially in a creepy old warehouse that definitely resembles an old apartment building more than a normal warehouse. 

“Should we split up?” Sam asks, his tone hesitant. 

The words barely left his mouth three seconds ago and Dean already hates the idea. “I don’t know if that’s a good plan, but there’s no way we can cover all of this ground quickly enough to catch our monster together.” 

Sam clearly likes it just as much as he does. “I’ll take Jack?” 

Dean nods. “You two be careful.” 

They move away from him, taking the stairs to the second floor as Dean continues his perusal of the first. He moves slowly, his weapon loaded with silver bullets for tonight’s Shifter in the City. 

It takes him by surprise as he opens an office door, swinging a heavy clipboard of inventories at his face and dropping him. Dean rolls over, kicking out to trip the creature. Strong and resilient and as disgusting as ever, it recovers stupidly fast. 

Not fast enough to avoid the bullet from Dean’s pistol. Honestly? The first shifter he and Sam fought all those years ago was so much worse. This one was almost disappointing for how little a fight it put up. 

He gets to his feet, groaning as he gives himself a shake. Two days of chasing this thing around has finally paid off. With Jack’s endless questions, it may as well have been an eternity. 

Dean is about to turn and leave when something in the center of the room catches his attention. He nudges the edge of a huge tarp with his foot, weapon ready for a second use if necessary. Once he deems it safe enough, he lifts the corner to reveal what’s beneath. 

The bomb makes his mouth run dry. Exactly what kind of shifter uses a bomb? 

The spiteful kind, apparently. 

There’s only a minute left. The shifter must have set it right before Dean found him, which would explain why he was such a lousy combatant. He runs to the opposite end of the warehouse, legs carrying him as fast as they possibly can. He rushes up the stairs, calling for his brother. 

“Sam! Jack! We gotta go!” 

“What about the shifter?” Jack asks, poking his head out of a room. 

Damn cement flooring and soundproofing. _This_ is why Dean hates warehouses. “Dead! There’s a bomb, now come on!” 

Sam clearly understands his urgency better than Jack because he flies from the room with his hand snagging Jack’s sleeve. “Come on! Run!” 

Dean waits for them at the steps, but they never make it. The warehouse sucks in a breath and then it’s all a flurry of motion, the world crumbling around them. The floor bucks, sending Dean to his knees as his brother and Jack disappear from sight. Everything is loud for a long time before the collapsed building settles. 

The older Winchester lies unconscious for only a couple of minutes, coming around with a rough cough and a spasm to get his body moving. “Sammy?” 

He lifts his head, ducking as a few pieces of cement fall to the ground near him. The ground under him is solid and flat, so he assumes that he’s on the ground floor again. Dean groans, shifting around until he can sit up. All the dust around makes it hard to breathe. Still... it could be worse. 

“Sammy? Jack?” 

Dean pushes to his feet, stumbling into a piece of what used to be the roof as he gets his bearings. A look up shows him that, despite part of the ceiling being down here, it is impossible to tell whether or not the whole building is toast. There isn’t any sky over Dean to say in the least. 

Coughing, he makes his way through the rubble, calling for his brother and Jack off and on while he searches. He comes to a dead end, beating on the rubble to see if he can get anything to move. Fighting a hopeless sigh, he fumbles around for an alternate route. His phone’s flashlight can only do so much. 

He finds a way, even if it is a bit of a tight squeeze and an uphill battle to get through. 

A noise reaches him, and it takes Dean a little bit to understand what he’s hearing. Jack is calling for Sam. _How could they have gotten split up?_

Dean shouts Jack’s name, trying to get through the remains of the building. Jack is much too focused on screaming for Sam to get up. Dean fights off panic at the words, realizing that they aren’t split up but that Sam is unconscious. 

It takes a while, but Dean manages to make his way to a spot with light. The roof is completely gone here, but the fresh air is worth it. With shaking limbs, Dean follows Jack’s pleas. They don’t exactly paint a pretty picture for him. 

“Jack!” 

He slides down on some cement, his feet slipping on loose stones. With a hard thump, he lands back on the ground level. He groans before a quiet whimper draws his attention. 

“Dean?” 

He gets back to his feet, following Jack’s voice into an accidentally-made tunnel. He makes it to one of the offices, climbing over pallets and crates. How they ever decided to use this building for storage, he will never know. 

“Dean?” 

It takes him a second to pick out Jack and Sam’s forms among the rubble. “Jack, are you two all right?” 

“Sam, he’s unconscious. I can’t get him to respond.” 

Sam isn’t even buried, his form curled by part of the roof near the only standing wall of the office. 

“And how’re you doing.” 

Jack hesitates before a whimper chokes him. He tries to stifle it, for Dean’s sake, but it leaves him anyway. “F-fine.” 

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “That sounds like fine.” 

He crouches, pulling at a chunk of concrete only for Jack to let out a shout of pain. Dean lifts it instead and Jack moves his arm now that it’s free. Dean swears he hears a bone snap back into place and Jack tugs it close to himself. 

“Hurts, Dean.” 

Dean stands there staring at him. His small form is so, so broken. Huge pieces of the roof are on his leg and hip, and Dean is fairly certain that there is bone sticking out of his knee. The rubble shifts just a little and Jack squeaks before letting go of another whimper. 

It takes Dean a moment to realize that he’s crying. 

“Dean, please! Help!” 

Dean doesn’t know if he can. He doesn’t have super-human strength. He has no idea what to do about the rebar through Jack’s other pinned shoulder. 

He wants to help. He wants so badly to be able to save Jack. Maybe that’s what hurts the most about having him around. Cas died for this kid, and if he couldn’t save Cas, how can he save Jack? How can he save anyone when everyone he loves keeps paying the price for their mistakes? 

Jack is paying that price now. Dean had tried to tell himself and tell himself that the kid was bad news, but he knows better. He knows better than to believe that his best friend would put his faith in a concept. For the first time, he sees that Sam was right. Jack is just a scared little kid, and one who is scared partly because of him. Dean was just trying to spare himself. To keep himself from the pain of loving another person that he eventually might not be able to save. 

“What happened?” 

“Building was going to... going to come down on us, s-so I pushed Sam out of the way.” 

Dean kneels next to him, his hands hovering just above a piece of metal still scraping Jack’s forehead. He’s bleeding. 

“Okay, uh.... It’s going to be okay, Jack. You’re gonna be fine.” 

The remains of the building move again and squeeze Jack uncomfortably. He grunts, more tears pricking his eyes. Dean hates this. This kid isn’t even two months old. 

“Just hang in there, squirt.” 

Jack narrows his eyes at the nickname, but he doesn’t protest. 

He can’t twist Jack onto his side without getting the rebar out first, and he most definitely can’t move the piece of concrete with the rebar in it on his own. “Um... I don’t suppose you can help me out here?” 

A small, helpless noise leaves his throat. “I’ve tried. M'sorry, Dean. M’s-sorry, I tried.” 

“Hey, you don’t have anything to apologize for. I know this is hard, but I need you to work with me.” 

His voice shakes. “Okay.” 

“Now, you told Sammy that your powers flare up when you get scared. My guess is, you’re pretty scared right now.” 

“Mmm-hmm.” 

“So... what happened? Why isn’t it working?” 

Jack clenches his jaw to keep a sob at bay. “I don’t know. It all just... happened a-a-and I couldn’t focus. I don’t... don’t know how to control it. Nothing works!” He starts to panic, breaths catching in his throat. “Nothing is _working_!” 

“Keep calm. It’s okay, Jack.” 

He frowns even as his breaths tremble. Dean’s reassurance probably isn’t what calms him, but he can’t tell. “You don’t think that.” 

Dean breaks off the small piece of metal, allowing Jack’s head wound to heal. “Yeah, it’s a... kind of a new development, and well.... Well, sometimes I’m a bit of a dick.” 

“Sometimes?” 

“Don’t push your luck, squirt.” 

Jack at least knows that he’s not mad now, but it’s getting a little difficult to breathe so he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. “Dean?” he whispers. 

“Yeah?” 

“You ca-... can’t get me out. Can you?” 

Dean refuses to accept that. He looks around, shining his phone in the direction of anything that he can use for leverage. He just needs to get the concrete off of Jack and then his body will do the rest. What can he do in order to make sure he doesn’t hurt Jack in the process? 

The crates. 

He forces his way into one in search of anything useful, but there’s nothing. The next three are much the same, but the fourth has something sturdy enough to bear weight. He takes a two-by-four from one of the broken crates, panting and swiping at his forehead. It’s lucky there’s a direct tunnel to an oxygen source, otherwise air would be a serious problem right now. 

“W-what are you doin’?” Jack asks, aborting his squirming in his efforts to look when something sharp bites into his skin. 

“I may not be able to lift the cement, but I might be able to leverage it off of you or at least roll it enough so you can escape.” 

“M-my arm, though.” 

“That’s part two.” Dean says, crouching in front of Jack as he places a comforting hand in his hair. “I need you to trust me. Can you do that, Jack?” 

Jack squeezes his eyes shut as another whimper leaves him, ashamed to be so weak in front of Dean of all people. It hurts to realize that Sam was yet again right in saying that Jack just wanted Dean to like him. Dean doesn’t mind his weakness, only waiting for an answer. “I-… I can do that.” 

Jack can’t see what Dean does, but he ends up screaming when the rubble moves across his leg. Dean keeps it up until the pressure is gone, grunting as he shifts something around. Jack shouts as his healing snaps the bone back and his knee straightens, pressing his forehead into the ground as much as possible. 

“Well, I hope that didn’t feel as disgusting for you as it was for me to watch.” 

Jack manages a weak smile, but he focuses more on moving his legs now that one is fixed and both are both free. “Dean, I’m... my arm-” 

“I know. Just stay still for a second.” 

Jack lays still. 

“Okay, I’m going to brace this as much as I can. It might push against your back when I start filling stuff in behind you, but I’m gonna get you out.” 

“Okay.” 

The kid - he's so small - shakes under Dean’s working hands, his shoulder throbbing. 

“Dean?” 

“What?” 

Jack winces, the pressure on his hip increasing sharply. “Please, hurry.” 

Dean moves as swiftly as possible. It takes a long time for him to be confident that his brace will hold, which does make Jack just a little bit nervous. He’s not in any position to be questioning the attempt. It sounds a lot like he’s breaking off pieces of the concrete. 

He crouches down again, hand going to Jack’s head in a comforting gesture. “This is going to hurt. Probably a lot. You don’t have to worry about screaming or crying. I’m not going to be mad. Just... try to relax, and move with me when I say to.” 

“O-okay.” 

“Well, that sounded a lot calmer than before, so either you _are_ calm, or you're in some serious shock.” 

Jack swallows, breathing carefully through his nose. 

“You ready?” 

“What are you gonna do?” 

“I’m going to pull you off the rebar. I got some of the surrounding stuff to loosen up so I could twist your hips out from under the rocks.” 

Jack doesn’t ask if it’s going to hurt. He can feel just how broken he is there, but he knows that it’ll heal. He just needs to trust Dean. He can’t let Dean down. 

“So, ready?” 

Biting his lower lip, he nods. At first, he’s confused when Dean pauses to make him stop. 

“You’ll bite right through it when you move, and we really don’t need that.” 

“It’ll heal.” 

“Yeah. Still don’t need that.” 

Jack nods. “M’ready.” 

He is completely unprepared for how hard Dean pulls and just how much it hurts. He can’t hear Dean trying to reassure him over his screams. If he were anyone else, his throat would be raw. 

“Hey, just calm down. It’s over, squirt. You did it.” 

Jack remains as still as possible, jolting as parts of his body snap and slide back into their correct positions. He doesn’t dare move for a while even after it’s finished for fear of upsetting some part of him. 

“Jack, it’s okay. You can move now.” 

When Jack doesn’t make any effort to move, Dean helps him into a sitting position. Jack doesn’t bother with a thank-you, instead just choosing to clutch Dean’s leather jacket. The hug Dean returns is hesitant, but more than willing. He can only imagine how Jack is feeling after being so helpless. 

Jack cries. 

Dean holds him the whole time, murmuring comforting words and rocking him back and forth. He’s struck by how young the boy seems now. He always tries to act all grown up, which is probably not good for him. Dean wonders just how much of that kind of stuff Jack does to try to make him proud. Now that he’s thinking about it, likely a lot. 

“Okay, Jack. It’s all right. You can let go now. You’re safe, but we’ve gotta get Sammy and get out of here. Ambulances are probably already on-scene.” 

“What do we do?” 

“Help me drag him. With any luck, EMTs will be searching the stable portions of the building.” 

Sam, oh-so-conveniently, wakes up halfway to the open area Dean came through before. The paramedics take a look at all three of them, patching up a cut on Sam’s forehead. A little fresh oxygen from the tanks never hurt anyone, and Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the careful way the doctors are handling Jack. Explaining the blood and holes on the kid’s clothes is a little difficult, but they let them go nonetheless. 

Jack naps the entire way back to the bunker just the way that Sam does: head tilted back with his body squished into the most comfortable position. 

Dean begrudgingly admits that the kid is too adorable for his own good. 

Until this moment, Dean had no idea just how utterly soft he had gone on the kid. It’s likely a change for the better. It’s not as if he wanted the kid to be evil, but now he sees what Sam was saying before. He saved Sam, and even as a Nephilim, nearly paid the price with his life. Not that something like a building could kill him, but he has to be able to get out to heal. The cons of being half-human. 

Sam stumbles from the car on his own, only glancing back once as he sees Dean opening the driver’s side door to check on Jack instead of the passenger door to let him fall out. Huffing to himself, he wonders just what Dean will have to say for their little escapade. 

Dean finds that Jack won’t wake up. 

Sighing, he drags Jack towards him and lifts the boy into his arms. He is surprisingly light. His room is already waiting for him, door open and bed made so Dean can easily slip Jack under the covers. He tugs the kid’s jacket and shoes off, hoping that scrupulous Sammy won’t be upset about all the dirt, sweat and grime on the sheets. 

He turns off the light about to turn away and close the door when a small voice speaks from the bed. 

“Hey, Dean?” 

Dean stops. “Yeah?” 

“Thank you.” 

Dean’s gaze softens on him. Possibility of death or no, he’d much rather Jack be alive and safe and loved than anything else. “You’re welcome, kid.” 

Jack _beams_ at him like the embodiment of a ray of sunshine. 

He turns off the light, but Jack calls for him to wait. He stands there while the kid settles on what to say. “Dean?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Goodnight.” 

Dean chuckles, smiling to himself. “Goodnight… squirt.” 


End file.
